


this ship of fools that we're in

by cirque



Series: All our lives in the wind [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Female Friendship, Impromptu birthday parties, The 'Shit Claire Redfield Has Had To Deal With' Scale, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unconventional Families, no but really this fic is gratuitous family bonding, the culinary skills of Jill Valentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirque/pseuds/cirque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The roadtrip probably isn't a good idea, but she doesn't get to have Sherry for the weekend all that often and Claire is determined to put as much distance between themselves and Simmons as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this ship of fools that we're in

**Author's Note:**

> Set two-years after Raccoon City is bombed. Sherry is 14. Kind of canon-compliant with the most recent game (RE:6), except I have Sherry meet Chris pre-Edonia, because of reasons. Enjoy!
> 
> Also: Simmons probably _did not_ let Claire take Sherry out to parties every weekend but I figure a) she's 14, and b) it's quite early on in Simmons's experiments and he probably hasn't done that much yet, so he doesn't see the harm in letting Claire take her out. There was no way he could have kept her literally locked up for her entire childhood and have her turn out as socially normal as she is in RE6. So yeah.
> 
> Title is from The Mostar Diving Club's 'The Great Explorers'. 
> 
> (A note about Claire's college studies - Capcom lost her in a giant plothole so I had nothing to go on, so I figure having her study public health is close enough, right? I looked on my university's course list but I know next to nothing about sciences, aha, I'm more for Classics & Literature tbh. So yeah, feel free to correct me.)
> 
> (Also, I have no idea where Chris and Jill would be living, thanks for all the background details Capcom, so why not Des Moines? Raccoon City was supposedly a Midwestern town and this story is set two years after, so I figured they wouldn't all move too far away yet. Claire moves away after she joins TerraSave, Chris and Jill when they start the BSAA and Simmons -- and probably Sherry too -- when he works with the President. Yeah, I'm just trying to excuse the fact that my geography sucks ;) I tried...)

The roadtrip probably isn't a good idea, but she doesn't get to have Sherry for the weekend all that often and Claire is determined to put as much distance between themselves and Simmons as possible. They drive west, even though the weather report is poor and Claire doesn't really have the spare money for gas.

They stop by a roadside fast food restaurant for food, a little too late for lunch but too early for dinner. The waitress totters over on too-high heels to take their order. Claire orders them a coke each and a burger for herself, while Sherry asks for grilled cheese, changing it quickly to a burger with a smile from Claire. Sherry is thin, too thin, and she could use the extra calories.

"It's nice here," says Claire, just for something to say. She hasn't seen Sherry in a few weeks and there is a slightly awkward tension between them. Claire doesn't know whether to ask about Simmons or not, doesn't really know that much about the girl's life these days. Sherry fixes her with a timid smile and nods; it _is_ nice here, mostly empty and the tables come with flower-patterned tablecloths that hold Sherry's attention for a good while.

The waitress brings their cokes in long fancy glasses, with a little plate of limes and lemons and a pink straw for Sherry. Sherry is fourteen and maybe too old for straws but she sticks it between her teeth without a second's hesitation and stirs the ice around her glass.

Claire sips hers delicately, and adds a slice of lime for taste. The coke is weak here. She taps her foot and wishes the food would be here already. The silence stretches between them like a black cloud.

"How's school?" This seems like a safe enough topic, normal enough. Claire doesn't expect a passing stranger to believe they are mother and daughter, or even related at all, but she cringes as she imagines someone thinking they are total strangers with nothing to say to each other, not two kids who went through hell.

Sherry nods enthusiastically. School must be good. Her education is one of the few things Claire and Simmons agree on; Claire thinks homeschooling is great because the tutors are truly dedicated and give the girl access to things she wouldn't encounter until mainstream highschool, at least. Simmons likes it because it reduces the amount of time Sherry spends in the public eye, and because he can limit what subjects she studies. They don't waste time with history and art; there is no doubt what career Simmons has in mind for her.

"I read _Of Mice and Men_ in free period last week."

Claire smiles. She didn't pay much attention to school the first time around but she can play along for Sherry. She remembers something about rabbits and the Great Depression, but literature was never her forte. "Do you like it?"

"Yes. But I didn't get it. George knew that Lennie was dangerous all along, right?"

Sherry seems to expect an answer, so Claire nods.

"He knew Lennie couldn't control himself. So why wait all the way 'til the end to kill him? Someone had to die before George would do it. Why?"

Claire thinks her undergrad studies in public health and geopolitics are pretty ineffectual right now. She shrugs and pretends to mull it over while Sherry drains half her glass of coke in seemingly one gulp.

"Hope," says Claire, at length. "Even though he _knew_ it would never end well, George hoped that Lennie was under control. He needed that hope. He loved him."

"Even though we love them, we can't ignore the fact that some people are monsters, deep down."

Whoa. Claire wonders how the conversation managed to take that turning so quickly. Sherry says 'monsters' and thinks of her father; Claire thinks of Steve and of the literal monsters that still chase her in that confusing time between awake and asleep. Claire splutters into her coke. They barely even talk about what happened. Not at Simmons's insistence, but because neither of them seems capable of bringing it up. Their meetings are few and far between and Claire is beginning to think Sherry is growing up into someone completely different.

And still, here they are, talking about monsters in the middle of a public place.

Claire struggles over what to say in response, but Sherry appears to have shaken her weird reverie because she looks around the dining room with a wide smile. "I'm hungry. I wish our food would hurry up."

Sherry asks about Leon, and about his 'work' with a goofy wink, and that takes them through until their food arrives although Claire doesn't actually know that much about Leon these days. She is grateful for the distraction, and the burger is actually nice enough that Sherry finishes the whole thing off without breaking stride. She wonders what kind of food Simmons provides, or if he feeds her on a diet of vitamins and granola bars.

 

* * *

 

Back in the car the weirdness between them appears to have dissipated a little, and Sherry rolls down the window and sticks her hand out into the rushing updrift. She still has the pink straw between her teeth. Claire touches her hair playfully; it is getting long enough to tie back these days but today she has it unfurled in long curls that catch the sunlight in the hot interior of Claire's ancient Honda. Claire smiles, and drops a kiss onto Sherry's shoulder.

Her phone rings about 4pm. She is surprised it took this long for someone to try and contact her; it isn't often that Claire gets to disappear for a weekend without someone looking for her. The first time it is her roommate, likely wondering where she's disappeared to on such short notice, and she just lets it ring itself out as Sherry turns the radio up louder and louder. The second time she catches sight of the caller ID on the screen and realizes it is her brother. She tosses it to Sherry to answer because they are on the highway and traffic is mounting up.

"Hey," says Sherry, uneasily. The last time she had spoken to Chris was nearly two years ago, and even then it was barely in passing. She listens to Chris speak for a minute before turning to Claire. "He wants to know if you're still up for Jill's birthday party tonight?"

Claire narrowly avoids being scraped from behind by an overenthusiastic Volvo-driver. She entirely forgot about the party. Jill's birthday isn't for another few weeks, but she and Chris are taking off for Asia soon on a recon mission, and Jill wanted the party before rather than after.

"I forgot. What about our roadtrip?" She says this quietly to Sherry, so that Chris cannot hear.

Sherry covers the receiver. "We could roadtrip to Jill's place?"

Sherry appears not to mind about the change of plans but Claire is uncertain. She has no idea how Simmons might react to Sherry socializing with known ex-S.T.A.R.S operative, especially two more survivors of Raccoon City.

Sherry seems to sense this and puts the phone back to her ear. "Claire says yes, sure, we'll be there… I'm okay thanks… That's good… Ok, see you tomorrow… Bye!" She shoves the phone back into the glovebox.

Claire fixes her with a glare that she hopes says _what the hell was that?_

"Derek doesn't need to know. What's he going to do, anyway? He let me spend the weekend with you. Chris is your brother, it's totally normal to hang with your brother on the weekend, right? Derek won't mind. He's not bad, not like you think."

Claire sighs, but nods. She seriously doubts Sherry's judge of character when it comes to this man, but is well aware that questioning him could easily lead to losing all visitation rights to Sherry. Claire isn't ready to pay that price, not yet.

 

* * *

 

They haven't travelled far and so doubling back to Jill's place doesn't take long, although it feels totally counterproductive to Claire. The whole idea was to take Sherry away from bad reminders of the past, not lead her right to them.

They are not far from Des Moines and although Sherry is clearly sleepy in the car, she doesn't have time to drop off before Claire pulls up at the bottom of Jill's apartment block. It is dark already, maybe 9 at night and Claire thinks maybe Sherry ought to be in bed already, but then parties are special occasions, right?

Chris meets them at the door, before they have time to ring the bell. He wraps Claire into a hug that lasts longer than strictly necessary, and she knows he is thinking of the long and dangerous months he will spend in Asia. When he lets her go he turns to Sherry and looks her over, and Claire knows – she just _knows_ – that he isn't seeing a fourteen year old girl but an unmutated host for the G-virus, bonded on a cellular level. Claire wonders if he sees her as a potential weapon but then he grins and pinches her shoulder playfully.

"You've grown, kid."

Sherry rolls her eyes. "Teenagers do that, apparently."

Chris laughs at her sarcasm, which is evidently all Birkin, and leads them indoors. Jill's apartment block is nice and fancy, all pretty wallpaper and interesting canvas paintings. Testifying against Umbrella in the Raccoon City trails apparently had its benefits. Jill's apartment is on the fourth floor and they take the elevator, staring at their reflections in the mirror as the machinery jolts them upwards. Claire looks tired but manages a smile; Sherry is beaming in excitement but her eyes are sunken and her face doesn't look quite as young as it had two years ago. Standing side by side they look completely unrecognizable as those two young survivors. Claire has a sudden impulse to draw Sherry to her side, but the girl is bouncing around, hyped up on coke, and then the elevator doors swing open with a chime.

The music isn't that loud and when Chris pushes the apartment door open they are met by a pleasantly small party, it seems to be close friends only and someone who may or may not be Jill's boyfriend, Claire cannot tell. It is as much a going away party as it is a birthday party.

Jill rushes to greet them with a yelp of happiness. She is wearing tight jeans and a halter top and looking surprisingly pretty as she hurries toward them in small sandals. Claire has always thought of Jill as ethereally _beautiful_ in a dangerous-powerful-enviable kind of way, but she is rarely as girly as she is now. She gets her arms around Claire and almost knocks her off her feet.  She smells of the strawberry perfume Claire had sent her as an early present. Claire buries her face in her shoulder and thinks about the weird forms families can take.

Eventually Jill can't resist Sherry anymore and bends down to ruffle the girl's hair. Claire is grateful that Jill doesn't appear to have any reservations about Birkin Jr. joining them tonight, but then again Jill is trained special ops so maybe she's just good at hiding it. She offers them a drink and Claire accepts her offer of a beer with a grateful smile. Sherry asks for a vodka and is deservedly ignored.

Claire busies herself with mingling. She knows the majority of Jill's friends and some are even Chris's friends, people she sees most weekends. A few of these people will be journeying to Asia too, but most of them are old cop friends and neighbors who know absolutely nothing about bioterrorism barring what they have heard of Umbrella's cover story. Claire feels at peace to know that there are still people in the world who haven't stared death in the eyes.

Jill's maybe-boyfriend is nice. His name is Joe and he has floppy blond hair and tattoos. He tells Claire that he plays the piano at a lounge bar downtown, but his real dream is to teach music full-time. Claire remembers Jill mentioning that she used to play the piano a while ago, and thinks maybe they make a great match. She wonders if he knows about the things Jill has been through. Probably not.

Sherry hovers at the door for a little while, but eventually gravitates towards the quiet warmth of the kitchen where Jill is preparing food. There are homemade pizzas and chilli with pitta bread and something that smells like chicken salsa. It is more food than Sherry has seen in her entire life and she can't keep her jaw from dropping open.

Chris talks with his friends about things Claire cannot understand. Football or baseball or the rising price of DIY tools. Guy things. Most of the party guests have gone home, and the rest are either winding down or searching for somewhere to crash. Claire leans against her brother and rests her head against his shoulder. It is comforting to just be with him, surrounded by the buzz of normal human interaction. It is not something they experience all too often, and Claire cannot believe she ever took it for granted.

He touches her hair when his friends move off to get more beers. "You tired?"

"A little. I've been driving all day." And Simmons was a nightmare this morning when she picked Sherry up, but Chris probably doesn't want to hear about that. Simmons was deliberately awkward and condescending. He never says outright that he does not want Claire around but he hopes to scare her off all the same.

Chris plants a kiss on her head. "It's getting late. You could sleep. What time do you have to take Sherry back tomorrow?"

"Eight at night." Simmons wants her in bed early due to lessons on Monday.

"Why don't you both stay? Take the spare room."

Chris and Jill's apartment is nice and welcoming and Claire has stayed over a few times before; she knows the spare bed will be big enough for both her and Sherry, and now that the party is dwindling down she actually feels pretty near exhausted. She yawns and nods and Chris laughs at her fondly.

The kitchen is warm and smells of sweet food, and it is here that she finds Jill and Sherry, sitting either side of the table with chips and salsa between them. Jill looks up as she enters, and kicks a chair out lazily. It is late and she knows Jill must be exhausted.

"Sit with us."

Claire sits, and gives Sherry a look over. The girl looks ready to collapse, her eyelids sticking together like moth wings.

"Honey, Chris says we can stay the night, so you can go to bed, if you want."

Sherry considers this and chews on a chip thoughtfully. Eventually she nods. Simmons probably doesn't let her stay up this late usually. Jill points her towards the spare room and fetches one of her old shirts for the girl to wear. Sherry thanks her with a nod and pads towards the bedroom, giving Claire a quick kiss.

Jill turns to Claire with her eyes suddenly wide. "She seems… well adjusted."

"She is. For all I don't like Simmons, I think he's actually good for her. He has access to the best psychiatrists money can buy, and you should see the kinds of presents he buys her. Laptops and designer shoes and pretty much anything she asks for."

"Good," says Jill, dragging the word out as if she is musing about Simmons. "I'm glad her life is as nice as it can possibly be, biohazard outbreaks notwithstanding. Do we trust Simmons?"

Claire catches her tone. Simmons had all but slithered out of the woodwork after the Raccoon City incident and cocooned Sherry away in his mansion. The man is strange, for sure, but his intentions seem honest enough and Sherry hasn't yet said a bad word about him. "We trust him. For now."

Jill winks knowingly. "Ah. Gotcha."

"He's a much better option than letting her grow up in government custody, that's for sure." She remembers Sherry post-Raccoon but pre-Simmons, all greasy hair and dark eyes and tears she tried to hide. The girl was brave, and plucky, and used to desertion, but there was only so much crap a child could deal with before it wore her down, and there was a moment there when Claire was certain Sherry would never get back to normal. In that respect, Claire is grateful for Simmons, even if she wishes he wasn't so secretive.

"You're right there." Jill lets this hang for a little while before yawning again and slapping the palm of her hand down on the table. "Well. I need to go to bed. I'm so tired I feel like a –"

"Zombie?" Claire finishes for her. They share a grin.

"I'm so glad we can joke about this sort of thing." Jill says dryly, and touches her shoulder. She waves as she leaves, heading to say goodnight to Chris and the few remaining party guests.

 

* * *

 

Claire wakes up before Sherry. She looks peaceful in sleep, and has managed to gain an aura of calmness that she never quite manages when she is awake. Claire isn't sure if this is because she's a trauma victim, or because she's a normal teenager. The girl is curled on her side, knees against her stomach, hair over her face. Claire leans over to brush it away, and Sherry reflexively jerks back.

"No," she says, her voice high, "Let me go!"

Claire pulls back. "Sherry, honey?" She shakes her awake. The girl fixes her with a suspicious glare, which softens to relief, which quickly turns to embarrassment.

"Claire! I thought you were – never mind."

Claire narrows her eyes. Sherry's little act isn't fooling her and she wants to push the matter, except Sherry looks genuinely upset at her outburst and burrows her face into the pillow. "What time is it?"

On any other day Claire would have demanded answers, but Sunday mornings aren't meant for that, and Sherry is sleepy and warm beside her. She settles her hand on the girl's forehead, her thumb moving slowly. Claire puts her reaction down to a nightmare, or flashbacks. She could question her later, maybe. She checks her watch. "Nine-fifteen."

Sherry pushes upright. "We overslept!"

"Not really. We're not on the clock or anything, it's fine." Claire actually thinks nine-fifteen is too early for a Sunday, but Claire is a student and sleeping in is rare.

Sherry looks mortified. "At home, I'm not allowed to sleep late." _Not allowed?_ She goes to crawl out the bed, but Claire's fingers close around her wrist.

"Hey – it's not late. What do you mean 'not allowed'? Do you get punished for sleeping late?" Claire wouldn't put it past Simmons. The man looked Draconian to a fault, but he seemed to have a sense of compassion towards Sherry at times.

"I don't get punished," Sherry says, and Claire is reminded why they didn't let Sherry live with a civilian foster family. The kid's a terrible liar. "Honestly, I don't get punished. I just… get woken up before nine, is all I meant."

 _Jeez, it's a Sunday for God's sake._ "Ok honey. Well, we're up now, so I guess it doesn't matter, right?"

Sherry shrugs and kicks off the blankets. She finds her clothes where she folded them on the floor last night and pads off in search of the bathroom. Claire watches her go and gets a jolt of pain in her stomach. Her gut instinct is usually right, and with Sherry, doubly so.

Claire hears the water from the shower come on and figures any attempt at garnering information from Sherry is lost. Post-shower she will likely be evasive and moody. Claire knows how it goes; she's been in Sherry's position before of course. There are just some things you never want to talk about. She sighs and decides she may as well get out of bed.

She finds Jill in the kitchen, fussing about with the coffee maker.

"Damn thing's broken," she says, which is the closest Jill gets to communicative early on a Sunday morning.

Claire frowns in sympathy but, honestly, once you trawled around sewers and prison cells and ugly underground bases for three months straight, things like morning coffee tend to lose their value.

Jill seems to feel this too, because she gives the machine one last flat-palmed hit and slumps down at the kitchen table. "I keep telling Chris to buy a new one. _What's the point,_ he says, _when we're always off on missions?_ Guy's a nightmare, I swear."

Claire has no idea why the pair of them share an apartment. She's never met two people more yin-and-yang, more entirely in sync and perfectly poised to defend each other, more us-against-the-world hotheaded military heroes. And yet, spending almost every waking moment together must really grate on their nerves. Claire knows; she lived with Chris.

Claire opts for a change of subject. "So, Asia huh? You all packed?"

"Yep. More spare guns than spare socks."

"You scared?"

"Scared is… subjective, y'know? I'm excited, in a way I know isn't normal because: hunting BOWs? Not meant to be fun. But it's like a thrill, like getting back into it. I've missed it, even if it does scare me witless. Know what I mean?"

Claire nods. She knows. She hasn't been in a life-or-death situation for almost two years now and she doesn't exactly _miss it_ per se, but she misses that burst of adrenaline that kept her running 'til dawn.

Jill looks like she might say a little more on the subject, but then the bathroom door clicks open and Sherry comes out with her wet hair braided and eyes them both suspiciously.

"Hey kid!" Jill jumps up, way too enthusiastically and Claire isn't even convinced, never mind Sherry. "You want breakfast? I make a mean omelette, or there's cereal, if you want?"

Sherry sits down. She isn't yet wearing socks and Claire can see faint pinpricks around her toes, as though someone had been using her as a pincushion. She feels her heart volt because Simmons _swore,_ hand on heart, that he'd let Claire be there for any and all tests conducted on the girl. Sherry is a minor, and Simmons may be her legal guardian, but the ability to comfort frightened children isn't exactly in his skillset. And now he's conducting unorthorized tests on Sherry? Claire bristles, but doesn't know how to broach the subject with Sherry.

"Omelette, please." The girl says, eyes wide.

"One Special Omelette, coming up!" Jill's over-enthusiasm finally manages to tempt a laugh from Sherry, and Claire decides to file this new information away until later.

 

* * *

 

 

The car ride back is uneventful, and Claire can't bring herself to put music on to break the silence, it feels like a façade that neither of them is committed to. It's a long straight road and the weather is chilly enough that she can't even roll the windows down without getting an awkward backdraft of icy breeze down the back of her shirt. Claire keeps her fingers tight around the steering wheel, and Sherry becomes visibly more agitated the closer they get to Simmons's town.

"Will you visit soon?" The girl's voice is scared, and holds a million questions.

Claire doesn't want to lie, but can't bear to disappoint her. "I'll try. I have finals soon honey, and I can't take that many classes off this semester. I'm behind enough as it is. I'm sorry."

She is sorry, and she is behind. She feels too young to be choosing between her education and the wellbeing of a fourteen year old child. Way too damn young…

"I understand," says Sherry, in the kind of voice Claire thinks she used to use when her parents told her they were working late at the lab.

"No, honey, listen – I _have_ to do this. Think about it: I graduate, get a decent job, get a house, maybe I can have you to stay at my place for a week at a time? How about that?"

Sherry gives a perfunctory smile. Claire sees through it. "Sounds nice."

"If there's ever something you need me for – anything – you just call me, or tell Simmons to call me, and I'll come right away. Got it?"

"But what if you're busy?"

Claire stammers. She doesn't want Sherry to feel like a second priority but how do you tell a child that sometimes you have to suck it up and deal with it because finals are actually hard to get out of? Claire thinks this whole thing would be a lot easier if Sherry would just _talk_ about whatever it is that bothers her about Simmons's place. Knowing where it falls on the Shit Claire Redfield Has Had To Deal With Scale would greatly influence the outcome of this conversation.

"Do you want to talk about anything, Sherry?"

Sherry sinks back into her seat, puts her feet up against the dashboard. It bothers Claire because she shares the car with her roommate and Sherry's shoes leave a long dark mark, but Claire doesn't say anything. "No, it's ok," says Sherry and that, Claire supposes, is the end of that.

 

* * *

 

 

They get to Simmons's house an hour earlier than expected and Claire can't help but feel smug about that. Previously he's pestered her about bringing Sherry back late, but this time she is scot-free. The girl drags her feet as the housekeeper lets them in.

"Got a smile for me Miss Sherry?" The woman is dark and tall and looks like she makes excellent comfort food. Sherry does have a small smile for her but she is mostly tired and has been holding Claire's hand for the last five minutes.

"I'm sleepy Bertha."

Bertha nods and leaves them to it, no doubt to fetch Simmons himself.

"You gonna be okay sweetie?"

Sherry looks up at her. She looks as far from okay as can be, but Claire knows that okay is relative for a child who survived an apocalyptic viral outbreak. "Sure."

"Welcome home Sherry, Miss Redfield."

They both look up and Claire tries to muster a remotely polite facial expression to greet Simmons with but at this point she's too emotionally drained to care. "Hi. Yes, don’t worry, I know, I'm leaving. Got it." He always tries to usher her out the door before Sherry can get clingy and say something to pique Claire's attention. Her attention is already piqued enough after the past weekend, but there is very little she can do about it on a Sunday night beyond keeping her eyes and ears on him.

"I don't want to rush you," is his curt reply, in a tone that implies he most certainly wants her out of here ASAP.

"Can I go straight to bed, please?" Says Sherry, still holding Claire's hand. Claire almost laughs because, seriously, when has a fourteen year old ever asked to go to bed of their own free will?

Simmons pats her head awkwardly. "I'm sure you're tired Sherry but I don't make the rules. Go wait in the bathroom and I'll bring your medication to you."

She nods sadly, and tugs on Claire's hand. "Thanks for taking me out Claire. I had fun."

Claire kneels down in front of her, and remembers when she would do this to meet Sherry's eyes with her own. Now Sherry is much, much bigger and shouldn't really need the babyish comfort, but this is Sherry Birkin and Claire could never abandon her. She kisses the girl's forehead, and her cheek. "Me too. I'll see you next time, right?"

"You bet." She wraps her arms tight around Claire's neck, presses her close: forehead, shoulders, stomach, legs. Claire is reminded of the day she said goodbye to Sherry post-Raccoon, right before she hightailed it to France. She'd cried then. They both had.

Claire kisses her head a couple more times and then straightens up because she can feel Simmons's glare on her back. It gives her the creeps to see the triumphant look on his face.

Sherry pulls back and, in a fit of bravery, grabs Claire's hand again. "Claire! Let me stay with you, one more day, please!" They are back in each other's arms and it takes all of Claire's will not to carry the girl back to her car and drive her far away, Simmons be damned.

The man himself moves forward, taking hold of Sherry's shoulders like one might a stray cat. "Sherry Birkin! This is unnecessary, now come on, be a good girl, go upstairs. Now!" His voice makes the girl jump out of her skin and she obeys, almost tripping up the stairs in her haste.

"Simmons, this is silly, let me talk to her," Claire rounds on him, and is awkwardly reminded of the fact that he has a whole five inches on her. "She's obviously upset."

"She's _bound_ to be upset. You're in and out of her life like a substitute teacher."

Claire gasps at that. "And whose fault is that, exactly? You know I'd stay with her all day every day, if I could. Sherry!" The girl is halfway up the stairs now and turns back as she hears her name. "Sherry, I love you honey, I'll see you soon!" She looks doubtful, and turns away from Claire with glistening eyes that threaten tears.

Simmons doesn't miss this detail. "Your presence in her life upsets her. Maybe you should stay away."

 _Oh, really?_ "That's not going to happen."

Simmons is managing to push her out the door without actually making physical contact with her. Sherry watches this with a blank face, and Claire wants to tell her to run to the car, to call Chris, to do _something,_ but Simmons is already threatening to revoke Claire's visiting rights and she hasn't got a clue what to do.

She stops herself, takes a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry Derek." She barely uses his first name if she can help it. "This weekend has been tough for us and it's difficult for Sherry to understand what she's feeling."

"I'm glad you're seeing sense Miss Redfield. It's better for Sherry if you leave without making too much of a fuss. We don't want to upset her more than necessary."

"No," says Claire, " _We_ don't. You'll let me come around on Thursday, like we planned? I'm showing her my new motorbiking boots."

"Of course," he says, with the closest thing to a smile he can manage.

Can't say fairer than that, Claire thinks, and goes the rest of the way out the door by herself. She'll talk to Sherry later, when Simmons isn't breathing down her neck.

"Goodbye then, Miss Redfield."

"Bye," she says, walking backwards down the steps, craning her neck around him to see Sherry and mouths 'bye'. "I'll see you Thursday, right? Sorry about what happened in there, but you have to remember, she's just a child."

"Sure," he says, "I'll see you Thursday."

He doesn't exactly slam the door in her face but still, as she walks back to the car, she gets the feeling he was pretty damn glad to see her go. In the car she drags her finger over the black scuff mark left by Sherry's shoe, and smiles.

Simmons doesn't let her see Sherry for the next nine months.

**Author's Note:**

> There are probably typos/silly mistakes but I'll fix them later because this fic is **so long** and I just want to post it already.


End file.
